


There are things I need to say

by jlondonk



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode: s09e12 Hell Bent, F/M, Missing Scene, One Shot, in the cloisters, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:37:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5370518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlondonk/pseuds/jlondonk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara knows this might be their last chance. She's not gonna waste it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There are things I need to say

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write this down after watching the season finale. It helped me cope. What I imagine happened in the cloisters.

„My time is up.. Doctor, between one heartbeat and the last is all I have. People like me and you should say things to one-another and I’m going to say them now…“

He was scared, of course he was scared. Terrified. Out of his mind. Damn her and her big eyes and her tears and her kindness and her sweet smell, so close now, after such a long time apart.

Why was she doing this now? He said he was fine. Why didn’t she believe him?  
Why wasn’t he more convincing?

„They can’t hear us and they are scared down here. They wont dare to come near us, so please Doctor, just listen.“

And it was this, this small request, that brings him back to her.  
The barest touch on the back of his head.  
A whisper, next to his ear, when he was just a boy.  
So soft. _„Just listen.“_

He feels himself sit back and simply stare at her.

„Clara.“

„I told you, earlier, when I said goodbye. Bad timing. It seems, that’s always been our problem Doctor. There never seems to be enough time for us. Enough time to say goodbye.... enough time to tell you....“

At this she falters slightly, her eyes still glassy, her lip still trembling.

„4 1/2 billion years. For me?“

„Of course. For you.“

Always. Always for her. Everything.  
Every burning glimmer of light in this darkness.  
Everything for Clara.

She looks at him so intently that he thinks she can see right into his very soul and a shiver runs through him.

"I told you before. I told you that everything you were about to say, I already knew.“

He nods.

„I don’t think YOU know though, Doctor.“

„Know what?“, he says.

„That you care for me? That you loved traveling with me? Of course I know that! Why ...“

But he is cut off by her hand on his cheek, like so many times before. The smallest gesture but always enough to shut him up.

„No, you stupid old man!“

She's crying properly now and it makes him ache in places he didn’t know existed.

„Doctor.“

It sounds like a plea. _Just listen._

And still she is looking at him with her eyes so big and he gets lost in them and suddenly, he realizes.

Realizes what he’s been missing all this time.

He sees _everything_ and it can’t be true because these things just didn’t happen, did they….

He never gets this lucky.

„I love you.....with all I’ve got, I love you....“

A tear is sliding off her cheek as she says these words and he sees it fall, almost in slow motion. 

He watches it stop in mid-air and is sure he’d be able to reach out and touch it, like that fly, in his confession dial. So heavy seems that moment, so important, that time has decided to slow for them. And for once, he doesn't question it, doesn't falter or startle at the sensation of this total loss of control and just accepts it for what it is. 

„Clara.“

„I didn’t think I’d ever say these words again. To anyone....But they were always there Doctor, always in the back of my mind, always present,...always yours to have.“

One of his hearts has surely given out by now and the other one is working overtime.

  
And still, she continues. Ever brave. Ever forward.

„I might never get another chance and I wont risk that Doctor. Not ever again. No more missed opportunities, no more regrets, no more what-if’s....so say it....!“

He is barely breathing now.

„Say what?“

„Why didn’t you tell them? Why didn’t you just tell them?“

„I had a duty of care.“

„I was dead!“

„I needed to bring you back!“

„Why?“

_Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why._

Pounding in his ears. Running through his blood.

_Clara. Clara. Clara. Clara. Clara. Clara._

„Doctor.“

Her hand moves from his cheek and simply falls on his chest, lying heavy over both his hearts and it weakens him in a way nothing else has.

„Because, Clara Oswald,... what good is time travel? What good is all of time and space...if I can’t hear your laugh....“

He was right back in his torture chamber, punching the wall, dying, on the floor, the dark creature lurking in the corner.

Dying,...again and again and again.

„What good is the universe and every star that ever was....when YOU still wont be there...“

His chest feels constricted, his breathing shallow and loud to his ears. The creature was lurking. His skin was on fire.

„My Clara.“

She seems to soak up his words like oxygen, wanting to memorize them forever.

And when he’s certain that he would surely burst from the intensity of those feelings inside his chest, she moves and he had never thought that this might happen, never dared to dream but now time has stopped.

Clara is kissing him.

Her lips capturing his, her hand pressed to his hearts, her hair a flutter on his cheek, her soft breath a whisper on his skin.

There was no darkness anymore. He saw the creature dissolve into nothingness, smoke and mirrors. He wasn’t dying. He was alive.

He was _so alive._

His hand finds it’s way to her neck, seemingly out of it’s own accord and for the first time since living with this body, he feels like himself.

„Clara.“ His voice, barely more then a whisper….

She takes his hand from her face and presses it against her lips, her eyes closed.

Clara holds his hand like it is something precious, like _he_ is something precious.

„When it is time for words, I can never say them, until it is too late. That has always been my curse.“

She's caressing his fingers against her cheek and he feels her tears on his skin. The sensation is more then a little distracting.

„I wish there was more… then words for you, Clara….I wish there was an eternity and if it was mine to give, I’d happily part with it.“

She shifts to place his hand gently over her own heart, which lies so still, so motionless, beneath her chest and he has to remind himself to continue speaking. 

„But as always, Clara Oswald, you are right. People like us, ....should say things to one another....“

If this was it, he thought, then to hell with it.

To hell with his rules, his protective guidance, to hell with _all_ of it.

The Doctor flings himself forward and holds her in a tight embrace, his fingers in her hair, nearly hiding his face in the crook of her neck.

„These pathetic words are all I can give you now. So know, my Clara, that I love you....I have loved you....always, always...and I spent 4 1/2 billion years not telling them BECAUSE I love you and I need you and loosing you again is not an option I can take into account.“

Breathing is difficult then, even more so then looking at her, but she makes him.

Makes him turn his head and face her and her eyes are glorious, they are so full, that he can’t tear his gaze away. 

„My Doctor.“

And it might be a dream or a nightmare, he isn’t sure. He’s been to hell, heaven and beyond. He’s seen it, felt it, breathed it in through his lungs and felt it beneath his fingertips but never, no never feeling quite this fragile, with her eyes so fixed on him.

And suddenly he can’t take it anymore and thinks to himself, that he might be allowed this bit of happiness now.

After his very own hell, why couldn’t he have his very own heaven...

So he kisses her.

And the fog lifts….

He lets himself imagine, that the second heartbeat he hears so loudly in his ears, isn’t his own.

But hers.


End file.
